


There Are No Raindrops On Roses

by Toni_Lynne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, Drinking, F/M, Reader Depression, themes of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toni_Lynne/pseuds/Toni_Lynne





	There Are No Raindrops On Roses

This hunt was a bad one.  It was going to take days to get the images of the deceased family out of your mind.   Closing your eyes to try and sleep for the unforeseeable future would be impossible.  Smelling anything without the memory of burning flesh clogging your nose would be a struggle.

Sighing, you tossed your ruined clothing to the corner of the cheap motel bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it could go.

Your iPod shuffled the next song and you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry when it began playing ‘Build God, Then We’ll Talk’ by Panic! At The Disco.  

Like most of Brendon Urie’s lyrics, you struggled to understand the overall meaning of the song but you had yet to hear another set of lyrics that summed up your hunter’s existence like the chorus of this song did.  

 _There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses. It’s sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses_  

‘And sometimes the best guesses are wrong’ you thought, picturing today’s victims again. Standing under the lukewarm water, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to keep the tears away.  You would not cry.

When you left the bathroom twenty minutes later, you had a text from Sam letting you know he and Dean were on their way to meet you and should arrive by morning.   Texting back a quick _be safe_ , you tried to decide what to do next.

You knew if you continued to sit in the hotel room alone all night you were going to torture yourself with the memories of the day.  Since the boys wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow you thought about calling Cas, but you doubted the busy angel would have the time or desire to entertain you. Like usual, Balthazar crossed your mind, but you quickly dumped that thought. It would be more stressful having him around and trying to pretend you weren’t head over heels for him then to be on your own.

The only solution was to walk down to the bar you noticed in town - whiskey wasn’t called Hunters Helper for nothing.  Slipping into clean jeans and a black tank you set out to drink yourself into oblivion.   

* * *

 The live band playing must have been popular because the place was packed for a small town bar.  Finding a seat at the corner, you ordered a double shot of whiskey and watched the people around you dancing and singing along to a decent cover of “Tiny Dancer”.  You noticed a good looking man a couple stools down smiling in your direction and you flashed him a quick smile before turning back to your drink.

Two hours and eight shots later you were dancing with Rick or Roger, or whatever he said his name was, to something fast.  You laughed while throwing your hands in the air and wiggling around.  The failed hunt, innocent victims, and loneliness were forgotten in an alcohol induced bliss.

When the next song was something slow, you transitioned into dancing in your new friend’s arms easily.   As his hands trailed down your back and you rested your head on his shoulder, your mind went to the place it always does when someone is this close to you. Balthazar.  

You let your eyes close and imagined you were dancing with the angel. His long arms wrapped around your frame, his head resting against the top of yours. His voice, rich with that delicious accent, whispering in your ear that things were going to be okay and you were not going to be alone your whole life because he was going to be there with you. A damn good daydream.

“May I cut in?” you heard a familiar voice ask your partner and you opened your eyes to see Balthazar standing in the middle of the dance floor with his hand stretched out towards you.  

Disoriented by his sudden appearance in the small town bar, you stumbled as you let go of the stranger and reached out to take Balthazar’s hand.  He quickly pulled you into his arms and the two of you began dancing.

“Am I so drunk I’m hallucinating?” you mused, not realizing you had spoken your thought out loud.

“No love, I’m here. I heard you pray for me and I came to check on you,” Balthazar replied.

“I didn’t pray for you,” you state, resting your head on his shoulder.

“How much have you drank tonight?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Not enough.  Speaking of which I have another shot waiting on me,” you reply, letting go of him to walk off the dance floor.

Balthazar grabbed your wrist to prevent you from walking away. “Y/N, you’ve had enough. Let’s get you home.”

“Home? That’s funny. You mean the roach motel?” You grabbed the hand he had clamped around you and tried unsuccessfully to free yourself from his grasp. “Let go of me. I’m going to drink until I can see raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses”

“You aren’t making any sense darling, come on,” Balthazar said, pulling you back into his embrace and leaving the bar, not caring if someone noticed you both disappear from the middle of the dance floor. 

* * *

 “Why did you bring me back here?” you snap, jerking away from him and kicking the cheap hotel chair over, falling down on your rear in the process.  

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped back, his concern for you overriding his typically casual demeanor.  

“I fucking lost them ok? It was supposed to be a simple hunt and I messed it all up. I didn’t get there in time and they died.   By the time I got to the house…I…. they were on fire and….I…..I…..I…..” you broke down before you could get the story out, tears pouring down your face as you tried to breath, panic making your chest feel like it was closing up on you.

Balthazar quickly dropped to his knees in front of you, gathering you in his arms as tightly as he could. “Come on darling. Breathe.  Breathe with me Y/N,” he said, rubbing your back as you started to match your breathing with each of his deep, singular breathes. “That’s my girl.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the floor of the motel wrapped his arms, taking a breath every time you felt his chest move. When you finally lifted your head to look up at him, he gave you a small smile. “Do you want me to remove the memories of your hunt? I can. I can make you forget it ever happened.”

You shook your head no, suddenly too tired, and maybe to drunk, to speak.

Balthazar stood, lifting you in his arms, and walked over to the bed to lay you down.   When he finished removing your shoes he looked up to see you had already fallen asleep.

With the alcohol you consumed he knew you would have no problem sleeping, but alcohol wouldn’t keep the nightmares away.  He leaned down and kissed your forehead as he smoothed the hair back from your face, his fingers lingering as he used his grace to give you a good dream.  He pulled the covers up around you before settling into the chair beside the bed to watch over you until morning.

  


 


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